


It wasn't meant to happen

by Alexei2020



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alcoholic Tony Stark, F/M, Getting Together, Harry Osborn Is a Good Bro, Harry Osborn and Peter Parker Friendship, Infidelity, Marriage, Mentioned Gwen Stacy, Past Harry Osborn/Peter Parker, Past Peter Parker/Gwen Stacy, Pepper Potts Deserves Better, Pepper Potts Feels, Pepper Potts Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Peter Parker is a Mess, Secret Relationship, Tony Stark Has Issues, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:54:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27193406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexei2020/pseuds/Alexei2020
Summary: “Thank you, Peter.” Pepper’s voice is soft, barely above a whisper, yet Peter can feel it vibrating through his spine. He melts a little at her tone and the sincerity they bring with them as they flow from her red, wine stained lips.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Pepper Potts
Comments: 28
Kudos: 87





	1. Just a friend

**Author's Note:**

> So... I'll try to update this regularly (key word try), I have the whole thing planned out, I just need to write it and make it readable. I hope you like it.

Peter is halfway out of his lab coat when his phone pings in his pocket. He sighs and the phone ping three more times before he’s able to fish it out and look at who it is. Not that he really needs to check out who’s bothering him.

There’s only one person who assaults his phone like that, and that is the one and only Tony Stark. It took a good year after they first met for the man to message him at all, and then it didn’t take more than a week for the genius to understand that Peter is terrible at answering.

Which is why his phone is currently blowing up with one or two worded sentences to get his attention. Who would have thought the great Tony Stark didn’t tolerate being ignored?

**_TS -_ ** **_  
_ ** _ Pete _ _   
_ _ Peter _ _   
_ _ Webs _ _   
_ _ Spidey _ _   
_ _ Movie tonight? _ _   
_ _ Pizza or chinese? _ _   
_ _ Nvm _ _   
_ _ Peps wants sushi _ _   
_ _ See you at 7? _

Peter shakes his head and taps the button in the elevator so he can drag his best friend out of his office and home to his wife before squeezing in a quick patrol. Question marks don't have much meaning for Tony, after all. It’s more a formality than anything else, really.

Not that Peter would have turned him down either way. If he asks about a movie night, it’s probably because Pepper has locked him out of the lab, and Peter doesn’t really want to play therapist because they ended up fighting over it. 

Peter loves them both, he really does, but he’s not exactly an expert in relationships. He’s had a total of three partners in his twenty five year long life. And they all ended in disasters. It’s admirable really, how Tony and Pepper have managed to stick together for so long with all the problems they’ve been through over the years.

Peter knocks on the brown, hand carved door, but doesn’t bother with waiting for a reply. There’s not a whole lot Harry can be up to there anyway, that Peter hasn’t witnessed in the past in one way or the other.

“Hey, Har. You ready to head out of here?” Harry’s head shoots up from where it was fixed on the computer screen and he grins at Peter just a little manically. Peter thinks he would look just the same if he was stuck doing business things all day.

“Pete! Yes, please! Get me out of here before I go insane!” 

“Har, buddy, If you willingly say the word  _ please _ , then you’re already insane.” Peter gives his best impression of a pitying face, and Harry pouts back. Peter has no idea what he’d do if he ever lost the man. He doesn’t have a lot of friends, but this stubborn asshole has never failed to be there for all the odd, crazy and downright morbid stuff Peter has had to deal with after that fateful spider bite. 

He drapes an arm over his friend’s shoulder and guides him out of his daytime prison. They wave to the pretty assistant — Felicia — sitting at her desk outside Harry’s office, on the way to the elevator while Harry tries to tell some story about a business dude. Peter doesn’t really follow, but he laughs a long with him and pretends he finds it as funny as it probably is meant to be.

Peter is not a businessman. He knows enough about it to come to the conclusion that he wants absolutely nothing to do with it. He’s perfectly fine with losing himself in his lab and getting paid enough to have a roof over his head and a somewhat decent meal every once in a while.

* * *

Peter lands on the balcony of Tony and Pepper’s penthouse apartment with a soft thud. Pepper’s head snaps up from the StarkPad she was glaring at, and her face twists from annoyance to something like relief when she spots Peter through the glass doors. He smiles through his mask and waves at her, but doesn’t even get to the door before she’s outside with him, two glasses of wine in her hands.

“Hey Pep! How are you?” He rips off his mask and gives her a once over as he accepts the glass. She’s not an easy person to read, but he’s got a good ten years of practice by now, and the almost invisible disappointed glint in her blue eyes doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I’m fine, Pete. Looks like it’s just you and me tonight, though. Tony had to leave for a S.H.I.E.L.D meeting, unfortunately.” The smile tugging the corner of her lips is a really bad excuse, and it just shows how tired she really is, standing out in the evening air, cradling her expensive wine, still dressed like she’s ready for the whole world to see her. 

“Why don’t you go and change into something more comfortable, and I’ll order sushi and find a movie. We can still have a good time.” At least the twitch of her lips is genuine this time. Pepper deserves so much better than being placed on the sideline all the time, and if Peter can lure that smile out for the night, then he’ll do just about anything to make it happen.

He understands that Tony is an important man, and he also gets that saying no to Nick Fury isn’t always the wisest decision, but this isn’t exactly an isolated incident. More often than not, Pepper ends up spending the evenings alone. There’s always something more important to do, apparently, and Peter isn’t good at standing by and watching while the people he cares about suffer.

Pepper deserves the world, in Peter’s opinion. And the least he can do for his friend is make sure she’s a little less lonely. He would punch some common sense into Tony if he could, and he’s tried, but Tony is stubborn, and if he sets his mind to something, everyone around him has to wait until he wants to appreciate them. 

It’s not easy, juggling everyday life, heroing and personal relationships. Peter knows that. There’s a reason he’s single and working for one of the few persons who knows about his night time adventures. But Tony has chosen to be a hero. He chose to get married. If it’s too much, then maybe he should give up some of it. 

Peter could honestly spend days picking apart Tony’s bad decisions, but it won’t ever do anyone any good, so he huffs out a breath and throws himself on the leather couch. 

Pepper comes back with her hair in a messy bun and a pair of flannel pajama pants paired with what Peter assumes is one of Tony’s band t-shirts. She looks even more beautiful now, than she does in her tailored dress skirts, and Peter smiles at her, shifting slightly on the couch to give her enough room to relax properly.

They settle on a comedy and Peter can feel her sinking further into the cushions as the movie plays on.  _ Good,  _ he thinks. It warms him to know he’s able to give her a good time, even when she’s obviously distraught by her day to day struggles.

“Thank you, Peter.” Pepper’s voice is soft, barely above a whisper, yet Peter can feel it vibrating through his spine. He melts a little at her tone and the sincerity they bring with them as they flow from her red, wine stained lips.

He clears his throat, not really sure what he’s even being thanked for. He can feel the prickling heat in his cheeks and licks his suddenly dry lips, gaze still lingering on Pepper’s delicate red ones. “No need to thank me, Pep. Really.”

He tries for a reassuring smile, but it comes out a little wrong and he forces his eyes back to the screen in front of them. Pepper chuckles a little and moves on the leather, her hip pressed into Peter’s side and her head resting on his shoulder.

“You don’t even know what you did, do you?” Peter shakes his head and chuckles along with her, and the tension that was sneaking up on him disappears as suddenly as it appeared. Everything is fine. They’re friends. Just two friends watching a movie and cuddling on the couch together. 

“You keep me sane, Pete.” she murmurs into his neck, and the tension comes rushing back, grabbing a hold in his chest and squeezing. Her breath is hot against his skin and her hair tickles his ear. He swallows thickly, and thinks that maybe there’s something wrong with this kind of intimacy between them after all.

He can’t quite bring himself to move, though. Pepper looks truly peaceful for once, cuddled up against him like this, and that’s the important thing, right? Pete’s thoughts on the matter can wait.

“It’s no big deal, Pep. You know I’m here if you need me.” He snakes his arm around her and squeezes her shoulder gently. It’s nothing but the truth, and something inside Peter tells him that Pepper needs the reminder. Even the strongest, most independent woman in the world could use someone to lean on, it’s just sad that the man who vowed to be by her side through everything can’t see it.

* * *

They watch the rest of the movie in silence. Pepper dozes off somewhere after they finish the sushi and the bottle of wine, effectively leaving the young man alone with his wandering thoughts. He really cares about Tony, he’s one of Peter’s best friends, but he can’t say he appreciates the way he treats the woman he’s supposed to love above everyone else. Not that Tony doesn’t love his wife, but he’s terrible at showing her just how much.

Pepper isn’t completely innocent, either. The way she keeps giving him ultimatums isn’t exactly fair. Peter knows how the responsibility tightens around his heart, knowing he can be out helping people. He understands that Tony can’t just give that up, but he also understands Pepper’s worry.

The way Tony is handling his life is so far from healthy, Peter cringes just thinking about it. He wants so badly to help him. Steer him off the path of inevitable destruction he’s so blindly stumbling through. But that’s part of the issue, isn’t it? Tony doesn’t see what he’s doing to himself or his loved ones. How can Peter possibly help someone who doesn’t know they need it?

The credits start rolling on the screen. Pepper’s head resting in Peter’s lap. He combs through her hair, not sure if he wants to wake her up or not. It’s nice, seeing her so calm and vulnerable, and his heart skips a beat knowing he can make her feel safe enough to let all her guards down. 

On the other hand, it’s getting late, and Tony could come through the door any minute. Even if it is just an innocent movie night, Peter’s not an idiot. It sure doesn’t look that innocent. He should probably be heading home soon, anyway.

Pepper moans softly in her sleep and nuzzles deeper into Peter’s thigh. He holds his breath, willing his blood to rush anywhere else than where it’s currently headed. The spider-suit does not do well with unwanted boners.

He lifts her up, gently, cradling her to his chest as he stands up. He can at least move her to the bedroom and clean up the mess on the coffee table before he leaves.

He’s never been in any other room than the living area and the bathroom in the hallway, so he’s not sure which of the many doors leads to the master bedroom. He quickly locates  _ a  _ bedroom, but he doubts it’s the one the couple usually share. If it is, then they don’t spend a lot of time there. It’s completely stripped of anything that’ll give it any resemblance of personality, just a black dresser and a huge king sized bed with plain white sheets and pillows.

It’s bigger than Peter’s living room, and he’s not sure what to think of that if this turns out to be a guest room.  _ Rich people _ , he shakes his head and lays his still sleeping friend down on the bed and tucking her in. For half a second he’s tempted to bend down and kiss her forehead, but thinks better of it and settles for brushing her soft, strawberry blond hair away from her face instead.

As he turns to leave, he feels cold, delicate fingers circle around his wrist, and looks back to find Pepper’s sleepy eyes staring at him. “time’s it?” Her voice is a little rough, and Peter doesn’t know if he’s ever heard anything as adorable in his entire life. 

“I’m not sure, ten maybe?” He rubs her knuckles with his thumb, and she gives him the most beautiful smile in return.

“Stay?” She looks at him with pleading eyes, and he’s so tempted to crawl under the covers and just hold her until everything is okay.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Pep. I don’t want to ruin the sheets, this suit isn’t exactly clean.” He hopes she gets what he really wants to say, but he can’t seem to find the right words to explain how bad it would look if Tony came home and found them together in bed.

“There’s pajamas in the bathroom. Tony will probably be gone until morning anyway. Please? I don’t want to be alone.”

Every single attempt at an argument leaves when Pepper whispers those last words. He sighs and shakes his head.  _ This is a terrible idea _ , he thinks as he wanders into the bathroom connected to the bedroom and finds a drawer filled with plain sleeping clothes in different sizes. There’s about five new toothbrushes too, and soaps and shampoos to rival the local store down the street from Peter’s apartment.

He takes a quick shower and brushes his teeth, he can at least smell nice if he’s going to spend the night so close to another person. Even if sleeping is the only thing they’ll do. He’ll probably regret this in the morning either way, but at least Pepper won’t resent him for being sweaty and filthy.

Pepper is looking at him with an expression he can’t quite place when he emerges from the bathroom, and he stops in his tracks, feels ridiculously small under her scrutinizing eyes tracing every inch of his body. She shuffles back on the bed after way too long and pulls back the covers. It’s a clear invitation, yet Peter can’t help but ask, “are you sure?” 

She rolls her eyes and smirks at his nervous voice. “Yeah, I want to be held. Come here.” Well, No one has ever accused Pepper of not letting people know what she wants. She barely lets him lay down before she rests her head on his chest, playing with the hem of his borrowed t-shirt. He takes a deep breath and tries to not think too deeply into the meaning of it all. He’s just being a friend. There’s nothing more to it.

His heart doesn’t get the message, and it’s pounding so loud in his chest, he can feel the vibrations echoing off of Pepper’s cheek.  _ This is a terrible idea _ , he tells himself again, staring up at the dark ceiling.

“Is this okay?” 

“Yeah, s’fine. Try to get some sleep, okay?” He hesitates for only a second, but places a hand on Pepper’s waist, and traces lazy patterns through her oversized shirt. He marvels a little at how big and protective he feels cradling her small body. He wonders if she feels the protectiveness too.

“Thank you,” she whispers again, her cold fingers moving in circles along Peter’s hip. He hums, doesn’t quite know what to say as all he can really focus on is the gentle touch on his bare skin and how good it feels, but also knowing that even though they’re technically not doing anything wrong, they’re dangerously close, and Peter hates the traitorous voice in his head that whispers  _ you can give her what she deserves. _

“Anything for you, Pep.” 


	2. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry drags Peter to a charity gala.

Peter wakes up to the early morning sun tickling his nose and a warm breath on his chest. He pries his eyes open slowly, blinking away the worst sleep and looks down on the peaceful, unguarded face that belongs to Pepper Potts.  _ God, Tony sure is missing out on something special. _

Pepper is curled up on her side, legs wrapped around Peters and nose tucked into his borrowed shirt. He tightens his hold on her just a little, taking in every detail. Her long lashes fanning over her high cheekbones, her full lips, relaxed and slightly open. The freckles dusting her pale skin is almost sparkling in the sunlight and the few lines around her eyes are almost invisible like this. Peter can’t help but smile.  _ I’ll do whatever I can to make you look as beautiful as this, all the time. _

He kisses her forehead, knows very well that he really shouldn’t, and untangles himself. It’s pretty early still, but the coffee table is still a mess and he does not want to be found like this by one of his best friends.

Pepper, thankfully, doesn’t even stirr when he carefully slides out of the massive bed. He scurries off to the bathroom, and finds that  _ yes, a cold shower is needed. _ It’s not often he gets to snuggle up with other people, so his reaction is kind of justified, he argues to his reflection in the mirror, shivering a little from the temperature change of leaving the warm covers and sleeping body, and the thought of cold, unforgiving water drops hitting his skin like miniature bullets.

The worst part is: He doesn’t even know when this, whatever this is, started to form. He’s always been fond of the strong, mature woman, has always admired her and how powerful she is. But there’s something different, special, about seeing her with all her walls down. Open and exposed, and trusting Peter to not break her. A dark whisper in the back of his head wonders if she’s this unprotected around her husband.

* * *

Harry shows up in Peter’s lab halfway through the day grinning like an idiot with an evil plan and Peter has to look twice to make sure that the image of him anywhere other than hunched over his desk isn’t a hallucination. 

“Harry? What are you doing here?” He raises a quizzical eyebrow and eyes the strange picture with an intensity more suitable for one of his chemistry experiments. 

“I come bearing gifts.” He holds up a brown paper bag and the sweet smell of freshly baked cupcakes invades his nose, getting his stomach’s attention and watering his mouth.

Peter drags out a chair next to where he’s sitting and Harry drops down like a sack of potatoes, planting his feet on the desk and sinking down so far Peter is almost tempted to flip the chair and watch him plummet to the floor. 

“I need a favour.” He says with his mouth full of blueberry cupcake, because rich people never learn how table manners work, apparently.

“Of course you do. What kind of person surprises their friend without any ulterior motives.” Peter kicks Harry’s feet off the desk and rips a piece of his own cupcake.

“There’s a charity gala this weekend, and Liz has to stay home with Normie.” Harry crumbles the empty cupcake paper and throws it towards the trash can by the door, missing with a landslide and throwing his arms up in exasperation.

“So…” Peter knows where this is going, it’s not the first time Harry has forces him into an expensive, tailored suit to tag along to some event he has no business attending.

“I need you to be my plus one. I mean, I could ask Felicia, but I’m not really in the mood for rumors about cheating right now.” Harry rests his hands behind his head and leans back on the chair, smirking at Peter’s unimpressed glare.

“Of course. And bringing your ex boyfriend is so much better, how, exactly?” It’s not like the public doesn’t know about Harry’s college boyfriend. Hormones and alcohol can make it look like a really good idea for a make out session in the middle of the street. Norman was not pleased.

“That’s different. You’re not a gorgeous woman in a revealing dress.”

“Ouch. I could wear a dress. Bet I’d sweep everyone off their feet in a black, sparkly ball gown.” Peter crumbles his own cupcake paper and looks challenging at Harry as he throws the ball over his shoulder. It hits the trash can dead on and Peter wiggles his eyebrows with a matching smirk.

“Show off. Please don’t wear a dress, or I’ll force you to wear a skirt and stockings for a month.” Peter pretends to think it over, tapping his chin for good measure, enjoying the slight terror in Harry’s eyes as he undoubtedly pictures Peter in the dress he wore at a college party as a dare from Mary Jane.

“Only because you ask so nicely. What’s it about, anyway?” He licks his fingers for crumbles and squints threateningly at his friend as he puts his feet back on the desk.

“I have no idea, but Liz won’t let me stay home, so it’s probably for a hospital or something.” He stretches his arms over his head, groaning as his back cracks with the movements.

“Fine. Now get out of my lab and let me work.” Peter pushes Harry’s shoulder, sending him toppling to the floor, flailing limbs and everything.  _ Glorious. _

“Thanks, babe. I’ll pick you up Saturday at seven.” He straightens his shirt and steps over his paper ball on his way out. Peter clears his throat, attention moved to his microscope. He points a finger at the trash can and pictures Harry's eye roll that usually goes with the groan that escapes his mouth.  _ Asshole. _

* * *

The rest of the week is thankfully uneventful enough. He catches a few burglars, throws the shocker through a wall and is knocked into a fish stand on the farmers market by the Rhino, only to have Johnny Storm tease him about the smell for the next three days.

He even gets a text from Tony, apologising for missing out on movie night. He doesn’t see it until two days after he got it, but he blames it on the genius for choosing to send the three paragraph long message in one go instead of fifty.

He tries very hard to not think about the movie night with Pepper, failing miserably every time he goes to bed. He hasn't talked to either of them, but it’s not like that’s a rare thing. Tony texts or calls when he feels like it and Peter answers when the constant pinging from his pocket gets the better of him. The few times he’s talking with Pepper on the phone, it’s usually because Tony is locked in his lab or passed out from either alcohol or exhaustion and she needs help moving him. 

It’s hard to push his wandering thoughts from escalating too much, when he’s lying in bed and the only thing circling in his mind is the perfect picture of a sleeping Pepper, serene and harmonious. Hot, steady breath against his chest and cold, slender fingers gripping his shirt.

He groans and throws his arm over his face, willing himself to calm down and think of something,  _ anything _ , else.  _ This is not how to be a good friend, Parker. _

He scolds himself up and down, but in the end, he still falls asleep to the phantom smell of fruity shampoo and the memory touch of his fingers combing through silky hair.

* * *

Peter spends about two minutes trying to tame his hair before he gives up. Harry should be happy he agreed to force himself into formal wear at all. Not everyone spent an hour with a dryer and a comb in front of the mirror every morning by the age of nine.

Seven on the dot, there’s a limo waiting outside Peter’s building. Harry looks like a million bucks, relaxing in the leather seat, sipping what Peter assumes is champagne worth at least two months of rent. 

“God, Pete. You look like a mix between a model and a mad scientist.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, and Peter snorts.

“Thanks, honey.” He flutters his eyelashes and smiles as innocently as he can manage and snatches Harry’s flute, downing the sparkly drink in one big gulp. If he’s going to survive an evening surrounded by high end douchebags bragging about their wealth, he’s going to need it.

Harry spends the ride to the event trying to explain to Peter what it’s all about and who they absolutely have to shake hands with and who they’ll try to avoid at all cost. Not that Peter really needs the pep talk. He’s used to jumping head first into whatever crosses his path without much of a plan, and it usually works out just fine. Most of the time. Maybe.

Besides. It’s not Peter’s first run down with a room full of tipsy one-percenters. He’s been dragged along to these things for years. If it wasn't Harry's date, it was to keep Johnny Storm from kidnapping one of the waitresses or as Tony Stark’s number one intern to get connections. As a poor kid from Queens, this is  _ surprisingly enough,  _ not unfamiliar territory. Granted, he still would much rather stay home at catch up on the Mandalorian under a mountain of blankets with cheap beer and popcorn.

“You ready?” Harry asks as the limo stops, sounding a little nervous all of a sudden. Peter raises an eyebrow at his friend.

“You’re not? You want to hold my hand across the red carpet?” Peter coos mockingly and ducks away from Harry’s hand coming for the back of his head.

“Brat.”

“You love it.”

“No I don’t.” Harry opens the door and Peter laughs, slinging his arm around his shoulder when they’re both out in the open air, steering him towards the entrance. He tells him about one of his failed experiments in the lab to distract him from all the shouting journalists and blinking camera lights. He might be an ass, but he knows his friend, and being in the spotlight has never been Harry’s favourite hobby.

He counts it as a win when Harry tips his head back in a laugh. He might not like being in front of the camera, but Peter is a photographer at heart, and capturing Harry happy and carefree should be every paparazzi’s main goal.

* * *

Peter’s senses do not do well with loud noises and a lot of people at one place. The different perfumes and colognes are burning in his nose and the lights and sparkling dresses are driving his eyes crazy trying to focus on everything going on. 

It’s loud and he can hear five different conversations from different corners of the huge room, all morphing into a big blur of hushed tones. It’s nauseating, and very quickly tipping the balance scale. 

It doesn’t take long to locate the bar, the all consuming aroma of expensive alcohol guiding his way through the crowd with Harry in tow. He doesn’t struggle against Peter’s tight, sweaty grip on his hand, thankfully, and Peter is yet again reminded of how lucky he is to have the man in his life.

Tony is sitting on one of the bar stools, nursing what looks and smells like over-priced scotch. He should probably have guessed that Pepper would have dragged him here, but the sight still catches him off guard.

“Hey, Har, get me a whiskey, will ya?” Peter murmurs to his friend, while still keeping his eyes locked on Tony. Harry nods and smiles knowingly, squeezing Peter’s hand once to tell him he understands, and heads off to get their drinks while Peter tucks his hands in the pockets of his dress pants and mentally prepares himself for a fight to get Tony away from his precious drink.

He presents his most calm smile, promising himself he gets to chase some fresh air soon, and steps over to his friend.

“Tony, hi!” 

Tony looks a little startled by his voice, and confusion mixes with his drunken state when he looks up and sees Peter standing next to him.

“Pete! What are you doing here?” He’s slurring his words a little, and Peter winces internally. Tony is usually careful with his intake around him, so he hasn’t seen him drunk (and awake) more than a couple of times, even though the bottle is present almost wherever he is. 

“Oh, y’know. Orders from Mrs. Allan to keep track of Harry.” He shrugs and the smile he’s so desperately trying to keep glued on his face is growing more and more painful as he takes in the state of his friend. Tony hums and sips on his drink. Peter wants to scream at him.

He looks around for the strawberry blonde hair that belongs to Pepper. If anyone can get Tony to see reason, it will be her. Peter would love to just take his drink away and order him to go home, but at best Tony would just laugh at him and call him a kid. At worst he would fire up and cause a scene. None of which would be very efficient at the moment.

Harry taps him on the shoulder and gives him his own drink. Now that he thinks about it, telling an alcoholic to quit drinking while holding his own drink is kind of hypocritical. He should find Pepper.

“Thank you, Har.” He whispers with a relieved smile. If Harry is here, he can at least occupy Tony while Peter hunts down his wife. 

“No problem, Pete,” he smiles back, and the quick glance over at Tony and back is everything Peter needs to know that his friend understands the situation and has his back. “Mr. Stark! It’s good to see you again!” 

Thank god they’re on speaking terms at least. If this was a couple of years ago, this would have caused a whole new set of obstacles. It’s a good thing Liz and Pepper know how to be civil and polite and that their energy somehow moved and settled into their husbands. Maybe that’s what spouses do, Peter muses as he zones out of Harry and Tony’s conversation about some business trip they were both at.

He takes the opportunity to look for Pepper and gives Harry’s elbow a light squeeze before he ducks out. 

The loud sounds and sparkly dresses are making his stomach twist uncomfortably, though, so maybe he should get some fresh air first. The exit sign is blinking at him from above a steel door and he heads for it like his life depends on it. The last thing he needs right now is a sensory overload, after all. 

The second he feels the fresh air on his skin he lets out a deep breath, feeling the cooling breeze on his burning cheeks. There’s a loud clang as the door closes behind him, leaving the loud buzz from the party as a faint echo in his head. 

He closes his eyes for a moment, letting the quietness of the city at night wash over him. Cars passing in the distance, people walking and talking on the streets. It’s refreshing, familiar in a way that keeps surprising him. It’s never really quiet in New York, but he’ll take what he can get, and everything is better than the deafening cacophony inside.

“Pete?” 

Peter opens his eyes to find Pepper leaning against the wall, bare arms wrapped around herself and moist in her eyes.

“Pepper, hi” he breathes, and is momentarily stunned by the sad smile tugging on her lips. He doesn’t want to make assumptions, but he’s already seen the state her husband is in, and he’s seen the particular twitch of her lips several times before. It doesn’t suit her. Tony needs to open his eyes and see what the hell he’s doing. 

Pepper steps up to him, elegant in her high heels and midnight blue dress hugging her curves perfectly. Gleaming, blue eyes rake over him, and he feels ridiculously small under her close scrutiny. He doesn’t do well under anyone’s inspecting eyes, really, but the thought of Pepper finding something wrong with his attire for the evening is making him annoyingly anxious.

“You look good, Pete.” She says after a while and takes another step closer. She looks into his eyes, and Peter doesn’t need any vocals to understand her pleading to make everything better. Even under the dim streetlights he can see her struggling to keep up the performance she’s perfected after years in the spotlight.

It can’t be easy to always put on a fake smile and pretend that nothing is wrong.

He opens his arms for her, and there’s the tiniest sigh of relief as she closes the distance and buries her face in the crook of Peter’s neck. Her hands dig into his suit jacket, holding on like she’s scared he’ll turn around and walk away for seeing her like this. If only she knew that Peter finds her the most beautiful and strong and amazing when she lets her guards down.

He circles his arms around her open back, tracing nonsensical patterns with the hand that’s not holding his drink.

They stand in silence for a long time, lost in the warmth of the other, breathing in synchrony. 

“He promised not to drink tonight” she mumbles into the collar of Peter’s shirt. Peter pours out the remains of his own glass and tightens his hold on her. 

  
“I’m sorry, Pep.” He whispers into her hair. She shakes a little and sniffles, all the walls she’s built up over the years crumbling down in Peter’s strong arms.  _ You deserve better than this. _


	3. Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is an ass, Peter is freaking out and Harry knows Peter a little too well.

They stand together in the chilling air for what feels like an eternity. Pepper is shivering slightly and Peter can feel the goosebumps on her arms like needles through his suit. He tightens his hold on her again, trying to shield her from the unforgiving breeze whipping around them in the dark. 

“We should go back inside. Make sure Harry and Tony doesn’t murder each other.” It’s a terrible joke, Peter is well aware, but he’s a little dizzy from all the input and Pepper’s hot breath against his neck, and he doesn’t know how much of a good idea it would be for them to keep standing there. 

It’s not that he doesn’t like having Pepper pressed against him, trusting him to keep her on her feet and not crumble in her dejection. It’s maybe that he likes it a little too much. Even with the biting cold and her shivering. 

_ She’s a married woman _ , he thinks to himself, repeatedly. But his brain can’t quite convey the message to the rest of his body and his feelings don't give a shit. 

Pepper gives him a weak chuckle, and lets him go. She smiles at him. A shy little tug on her perfect lips, and Peter mentally slaps himself for thinking about how soft they would feel against his own. He smiles back, tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear and offers his elbow for her to grab. 

“You’re right. Thank you again, Peter.” She squeezes his arm and straightens her back. In a flash, the vulnerable, open face is gone. Replaced with the famous, public smile and stern eyes. Peter wants to wipe it away and make sure she never has to pretend again.

“It’s nothing, Pepper. You know I’m here for ya” The words fall from his lips like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Peter wonders if he’ll ever get tired of hearing Pepper thank him, even if he hasn’t done anything to deserve it.

* * *

The commotion from inside the large hall hits him like a blast when he opens the door. The hushed voices could just as well have been screams, the dim lighting feels like spotlights on the inside of his head and the mixed odors invade his nose and worms their way down his throat and ties up his intestines all over again. 

_ Just a few more hours, Peter. You can do this. _

Tony is still by the bar, leaning on his hand as he tries to explain something to Harry, who nods along and hums when he’s expected to respond. He doesn’t look like he’s paying attention, though, searching the place for anyone else to occupy his time. 

His eyes widen in relief when he spots Peter and Pepper, and Peter wants to laugh at his not-so-subtle pleading to rescue him from his misery. His gaze softens when he looks over at Pepper, giving her a respectful smile.

“Mrs. Potts. You look amazing.” He offers as a way of greeting and reaches out his hand for her.

“Thank you, Mr. Osborn.” She smiles politely back and Harry kisses her knuckles when she gives him her hand.

“Please, call me Harry. Mr. Osborn was my father.”

“As long as you call me Pepper, I think that can be achieved.” She winks, and Peter’s head plays it on repeat, just to make sure it actually happened. It has to be on top of his list of the most sexy things he’s ever seen in his life.

Tony, however, seems to be a little slow. He doesn’t react to his wife’s voice until a few long seconds after she’s done talking. But when he does, his eyes snap up and he beams like a kid on christmas morning. 

“Honey! Where’d you go! I missed you.” He’s still slurring his words, and his eyes are so unfocused and glassy, that the fact that he can even sit upright is a miracle. Pepper gives him an unimpressed once over and sighs in defeat. Peter’s heart breaks a little at the sight. 

“I went out for some air. Did you talk to Mr. Richards?” 

Tony shakes his head, and his whole body sways dangerously with the movement. “Nah, couldn’t find him.” 

_ Probably because you were too busy drowning yourself, _ Peter doesn’t say, instead what comes out of his mouth like he’s some starstrucked teenager is “Reed is here?” 

It’s apparently the wrong thing to say, because Tony scoffs into his drink, scrunching his nose in mild disgust and says “Why? Are you tired of the genius in front of you already?” 

“I’m sorry to ruin your ego, Tony, but you don’t hold a monopoly on the IQ level in this place.” It comes out without Peter’s approval, and he wants to shoo the words away the second they fall out of his mouth. He looks over at Harry, who’s staring at him with a mix of amusement and disapproval, and he quickly realises there’s no way he’s going to rescue him from this disaster of a conversation. 

“Of course. Everyone is better than me. Let me know when you’re done kissing Harry’s ass, and I’ll consider giving you a job you’re actually worth.”

Pepper’s jaw clicks shut beside him, and the hand still connected to his elbow tightens, perfectly manicured nails digging into his skin through the jacket. 

Harry isn’t that much of an asshole,  _ thank god _ , and he steps up to the beautiful woman and offers his hand in silence, and without saying anything, he leads her away. Tony doesn’t even notice that half the company has left the scene.

Peter can’t help the annoyance creeping up on him, and he clenches his fist and takes a deep breath, regretting it immediately when the strong smell of sweat, perfume and alcohol fills his nostrils.

“I was Harry’s friend long before I met you, y’know. What’s this about, really?”

Tony downs the rest of his drink and there’s another one put in front of him not even three seconds after he put down the empty glass. Peter squints at the bartender, who shrugs and moves on to another partygoer. 

“You could have everything you ever dreamed of, working for me. Loyalty only gets you so far, y’know.”  _ Hypocrite _ . _ Loyalty towards who? _

“I actually enjoy my job, Tony” Peter crosses his arms, maybe a little insulted by the insinuations. Peter is good at what he does. He suffered way too many years in college and too many courses in too little time to get where he is. Having Tony just handing him what he’s worked so hard to get is just disrespectful, really. 

Tony downs his newest glass and stands up, almost falling over when his feet touch the floor. Peter is in front of him in milliseconds, grabbing him by the arms to keep him from sprawling out on the floor for everyone to see. 

“You need to go home and sleep.” He wants to sound scolding. But it comes out like a concerned whisper. Tony’s eyes can’t even focus on what’s right in front of him. He shrugs Peter off like he’s so many levels beneath him, he isn’t even worth a single glance. 

“M’fine” he slurs, and straightens his jacket. He takes a step forward, right back into Peter’s waiting arms. He frowns, and wants to shake this stupid idiot of a genius for never accepting help when he so clearly needs it.

“Can you even walk?”

“I said: I’m fine!” he glares in Peter’s general direction, spitting the words through gritted teeth. Good thing Peter isn’t a starstrucked teenager with a hero worship bigger than the man’s ego anymore, or this interaction would have ended in an even worse disaster. “Now, where’s that beautiful wife of mine?”

Peter looks around, and spots Pepper smiling at Harry while they move on the open dance floor in such a fluid flow that it looks like they’re actually floating across the room.

“She’s dancing with Harry.” 

“Of course she is. That asshole has to take everything from me.” Tony mutters, and Peter isn’t sure he was even supposed to hear it. It furies him nonetheless. Harry hasn’t done anything to Tony to deserve this, other than being Norman’s son, and if anyone should know what it’s like to not have a choice in their heritage, it should be him.

“Hey! No one is taking anything from you. Do you even see what you’re doing to your wife, Tony?” Peter takes both hands and places one on each of Tony’s flushed cheeks, forcing him to look at him.

“Apparently not enough, since she’s off with Osborn!” 

“Okay, that’s enough. You’re being ridiculous. You’re breaking her, Tony.” He tries with all his might to make the man see the seriousness of it all, but arguing with a drunk man is like yelling at a brick wall and expecting it to yell back. “You need to go home and sleep. She doesn’t deserve this.”

Tony manages to meet his eyes,  _ finally _ , and he looks a little lost for a second, before the confusion shifts into realization and his warm, pink face turns into the color of a ghost. “Oh my god. I’m turning into my father. I’m gonna be sick.”

Peter acts on instinct. Grabbing Tony’s elbow and quickly guiding him towards the exit. “Come on, let’s get you some fresh air, yeah?” Tony nods silently, and Peter lets out an involuntary sigh at the sudden turn of events. Maybe his friend will understand the severeness of everything, at last. 

* * *

Peter keeps a grounding hand on Tony’s back as they make their way out into the dark night. Dealing with a compliant drunk is way easier than arguing with an angry one, that’s for sure. Even if he has to shield him from the streets as he vomits all over the ground. 

He takes the time to call Happy, asking him as politely as possible to come pick up his boss. A wave of deja vu hits him, and he thinks back to all the times he’s done this exact same thing with Harry back in college.

“You doing okay back there?” Peter turns to look over his shoulder, but can’t see more than half of Tony’s silhouette bent over behind the corner. 

“I’m good. Thank you, Pete. I’m sorry, for being such an ass.” Well, at least he’s sobering up slightly. 

“Don’t worry about it.” He leans back against the wall and exhales slowly. He really wishes he could just have stayed home. 

“What about Pepper?” Peter doesn’t squeal like a girl at the voice that’s suddenly right next to him. It’s a very manly shout. Really.

“Don’t worry about it. You just make sure you don’t vomit all over that suit of yours, and I’ll make sure Pepper makes it home in one piece, okay?” He says after he swallows the last of the unfortunate butterflies that rushed out a moment ago. 

Tony hums and nods, and a new set of unnerving butterflies starts fighting in his stomach. Tony trusts him with his wife. Even after the almost-not-quite shouting match, Tony trusts Peter to make sure the most important person in his life gets home safe.  _ If only you knew.  _

Peter bites the inside of his cheek so he doesn’t accidentally spill every filthy thought he has ever had about his friend’s loved one in one long guilty ramble. 

Happy shows up not long after, looking for all the world like he’d rather be anywhere else. Peter doesn’t blame him. He would much rather be anywhere else too. He opens the door to the back seat, and Peter all but pushes Tony inside, gives his best version of a fake, reassuring smile and slams the door shut. Then he turns around on his heels, gives the same smile to Happy, who doesn’t buy it for even a second, if the raised eyebrow is anything to go by.

“Make sure he actually goes to sleep, okay? I’ll have Harry’s driver bring Pepper home, later, okay?” It earns him a grunt and a solid nod, and then they’re off. Peter places his hand on the wall, and has to physically stop himself from slamming his face against the bricks.  _ What the hell are you doing, Parker? _

* * *

Pepper and Harry are still floating across the floor when Peter manages to stumble his way back inside. Harry catches his eyes and gives him a look that orders Peter to get over to them, without arguments, and Peter is just too tired to do anything other than move his feet one step at the time until he’s by their side, smiling distantly.

“Pete, hey! Could you take over? I need to talk to some of these people, or Liz is gonna have my head.” Right. People actually have a strategy when they arrive at these things. 

“Sure, sorry I messed up your plan for tonight, man.” There’s an amused glint in Harry’s eyes, and the stress level steadily climbing inside Peter’s body halts for a moment, letting him breathe.

“No worries, Pete. Who doesn’t appreciate a little drama every once in a while.” He offers Pepper’s hand to Peter and turns to her, a bright, genuine smile on his lips. Peter wishes he had his camera to capture it. “I’m sorry for leaving with you with this unsophisticated asshole, Pepper, but I’m sure you can take care of him for me.”

Peter is sure there’s some inside joke there that he’s not in on, and he momentarily regrets leaving them alone together. Pepper just smiles back with a nod, and Peter gets a single pat on the shoulder before Harry is heading off in some random direction to chase down whoever Liz ordered him to talk to.

Peter turns to Pepper, flashing one of his almost-confident-adult smiles and bows extravagantly. He counts it as a win when he hears Pepper’s soft laugh.

“May I have this dance, ma’am?”

“Call me ma’am again, and I’ll rather run after Harry.”

“Ouch. Very well, Mrs. Pepper Potts.” He receives another laugh, and it feels like music to his already abused ears. She places a delicate hand on his shoulder and Peter’s hand finds its way to her hip. 

“I have to warn you, though. I have no idea what I’m doing.” It’s not like Peter has ever had the need to learn how to dance. Prom and school dances don't count. But he’s danced a few times with Harry, just to get the basics. Norman would never agree to Peter being Harry’s date if he was going to embarrass them out in public.

But that was years ago, so Peter trips over his feet a few times and apologises with a wince when he steps on Pepper’s toes. She just laughs and shakes her head at him, amusement shining in her stunning, blue eyes.

Her arms find their way around his neck instead, cold slim fingers toying with the collar of his shirt, and they’re left swaying in one place. A quick glance around the place shows that they’re not the only ones taking the easy way out. Maybe it’s not that different from a prom after all.

“I’m sorry your night got ruined.” he murmurs, and has to look way deeper than usual to not stutter through the words, the cool feeling of her fingertips tangling with his curls maybe just a little distracting.

“It turned out okay in the end, don’t you think?” Pepper doesn’t seem to notice what she’s doing to him, which is a good thing, really. She doesn’t need to know what her pale, frail body so close and interlaced with his own out on the dancefloor is doing to him.

“I hope so. At least you’re smiling now.”

Pepper hides her face in Peter’s neck, her lips grazing his skin ever so lightly, sending shivers down his spine.  _ She’s a married woman, Parker _ , he tells himself again, not that it helps anything. His heart skips a few beats, Pepper’s eyelashes flutter against his jaw, and her warm cheek is so soft against his chin. It’s overwhelming, yet, Peter doesn’t know if he ever wants to let go.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” 

Well, that’s definitely  _ not  _ a good idea. Peter can barely keep his thoughts straight  _ here _ , he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to control himself if they’re alone. But there’s something in her voice that Peter just can’t say no to. The whisper is so soft, vulnerable,  _ scared _ . 

Pepper shouldn’t have to be scared. Of anything. And if Peter has to crash on his own couch to make her feel safe, then he can do that.

“Pete. Relax” she whispers and Peter thinks he knows how the pirates fell for the sirens. 

He clears his throat, which somehow turned into a desert during his minor turmoil. “Yeah, sure. No problem. Happy’s with Tony now anyway, right? He can pick you up at my place in the morning.” It feels like the whole room is on fire.  _ What are you doing?! _

_ Pepper needs you _ . And isn’t that the important part? Tony is too drunk to take care of her now, and in the end, he’s the reason she needs someone in the first place. Tony trusts him to make sure Pepper is safe. Does Tony even know that Pepper needs to be shielded from himself?

“It’s okay, Pete. We’re friends, aren’t we? Tony won’t mind me sleeping over. He won’t even notice I didn’t come home.” Right. They’re friends. Friends have sleepovers. It’s fine. They’re good. Pepper just wants a friend. Peter can be a good friend. 

“Yeah— yeah, okay. I need something to drink. Do you want anything? Do you have anyone you need to talk to here?” He peels himself from her, putting a few inches between them. It’s not enough. Everything is still on fire, except her icy fingers still tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck.

He needs to do something about these thoughts. They’re just friends. Peter is allowed to take care of his friends if they need it. There’s nothing wrong with it. They’re not doing anything wrong. 

“Sure, I could use something to drink. I don’t actually have to talk to anybody. People come to me.” She says with that dazzling smile of hers, full, soft lips stretching with confidence and pride. The few lines around her eyes crinkling and shows just how hard she’s worked to get where she is. 

* * *

Harry is pretty drunk when his limo comes to pick them up, but at least he’s able to walk on his own and doesn’t turn aggressive when he drinks. But then again, Harry is never aggressive. Peter has seen him angry exactly once in all the years they’ve known each other, and that was to defend Peter against Norman, of all things. Like Peter can’t stand up for himself.

There’s enough room in the limo for at least eight people, yet they press themselves together like they’re stuck to each other’s hips. Harry leans against the headrest and closes his eyes, sighing in what Peter thinks is relief. Peter sits in between him and Pepper, who’s leaning against his shoulder and carefully, almost unsurely, stroking Peter’s thigh. 

The words  _ just friends  _ and  _ she’s married  _ plays on repeat in his head, over and over, and he tries his best not to think about what it usually means when one’s thigh is being caressed like that. 

“Next time, I’m gonna switch with Liz. Watching a baby sleep sounds a lot less stressful than trying to please twenty men with thirty different opinions.” 

“I think you’re underestimating your wife there, Har, but by all means. I’d rather be Liz’ date than yours anyway.”

“Deal. I take the role of stay-at-home mom, and Liz gets to drag your stupid ass around and look good. I like that.”

Peter can feel Pepper vibrating with an almost silent chuckle and he squeezes her shoulder once. Harry sinks deeper into his seat, and opens his eyes to raise an eyebrow at his friend, asking what the hell he’s doing. 

Peter has no idea what he’s doing, so he just shrugs the shoulder that’s not occupied with Pepper. Harry shakes his head and closes his eyes again, it takes about 2 seconds for his breath to even out and Peter envies his ability to fall asleep like he has no problems in the world whatsoever

Pepper’s hand keeps making nonsensical patterns on Peter’s thigh, and he tries (without much success) to yell internally at his blood flow rushing to places he’d rather not have it at the moment. He doesn’t stop her, doesn’t know if he could if he really wanted to, until the hand travels a little too high and a little too close to his crotch. 

His hand flies down and grabs her wrist, and he shakes his head subtly into her hair. A quick glance over at Harry shows that he didn’t even stir with the rash movement, and he lets out a slow breath. Pepper nods once, and her hand stills, still on his thigh, but doesn’t move anymore for the rest of the trip.

When they stop outside Peter’s building, Harry opens his eyes and watches as his friend and Pepper exit. He gives Peter a sceptical look, which is returned with what Peter hopes is a reassuring smile. 

“Pete…” His voice is calm, and Peter just knows that his smile didn’t work. “Call me in the morning.” It’s not a request, as much as an order, and it’s just another worry Peter has to put on his ever growing list of things he has to watch out for. Curse Harry for knowing him so well.

“Yeah, sure.” is all he says, because Pepper isn’t the only one Peter has trouble telling  _ no. _

“Thank you for tonight, Harry.” Pepper smiles gratefully, and Harry’s face softens to something even Peter rarely gets to see. 

“It’s nothing, Pepper. I hope we managed to lift your mood a little.”

“Oh, you definitely did. Say hi to your wife for me?” she smirks and winks, and Peter almost wants to beg for her to do that to him. 

“Of course. Have a good night!” The fond look disappears as he turns to look back at Peter, and he points a finger at him, mouthing  _ I’m on to you _ , before the door closes and the car drives off. 

He can feel Pepper’s arm looping around his own, and her hair is tickling his cheek when she mounts her head back on his shoulder.  _ She’s just tired, don’t think too much into it. _

“You’re a good friend, Pete.” Peter wants to argue at that. He most certainly doesn’t feel like a good friend at the moment. 

“Yeah… come on, let’s go inside.”

* * *

Peter shrugs off his jacket and hangs it on his bedroom door, he can hear Pepper’s feet padding around in his living room.

She’s standing in front of Peter’s wall filled with pictures of his loved ones when he joins her, looking at a photo of him and Gwen when they were fifteen, making silly faces to the camera in Peter’s old bedroom. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” Peter could definitely need something to drink, it feels like his mouth is filled with ash. Pepper looks so out of place in front of the brick wall, surrounded by second hand furniture. 

Peter moves to his small kitchen and opens the fridge. Pepper hums distractedly with her eyes trained on one of Peter’s favourite pictures of his aunt and uncle, standing together in the living room, holding each other and looking as in love as they did in their wedding photos. 

“What do you have?” she asks, her fingers tracing Mary Jane's face in a picture of her and Harry laughing so hard there’s tears in their eyes. 

“Uhm, I have orange juice, milk and beer. I could make some coffee, though, if you’d like?” Pepper smiles at a picture of Johnny Storm flipping the middle finger at the camera, a small flame on the tip of it.

“Coffee sounds nice. Thank you.”

“Is that your uncle?” She asks when Peter appears at her side with a steaming cup of coffee. She takes it with a soft  _ thank you _ that has Peter’s knees turning to jelly, and nods to the photo of his parental figures.

“Yeah. May had just gotten a promotion. I caught them dancing on my way to the park to meet Gwen.” 

“They look really happy.” Pepper’s eyes sparkle when she looks at it, and there’s something in her soft tone that has Peter wondering if she’s ever had anyone look at her the way Ben looked at May. 

“They were.” He nods, and takes a sip of his coffee, feeling the burn on his tongue, and welcoming it with open arms, so he doesn’t have to acknowledge the burning in his chest, when May’s face pops up in his head, face blank and drained of color, emotion and energy as the police told her that her husband would never come back home.

“Who’s the blond girl?” 

Peter’s head is filled with another set of memories and he smiles sadly of all the fun him and Gwen had when they were younger.

“That’s—” he clears his throat, thinking if he should share her story at all. “— That’s Gwen. She was my best friend for a long time. We even dated for a while.” 

Pepper traces Peter’s messy handwriting in the corner of the photo.  _ I miss you Gwenny. _ His vision blurs a little at the edges, and he wonders when the last time he actually talked about her was. 

“What happened?” 

“She… She died” it comes out as a whisper, and Peter thinks of brilliant smiles, snarky remarks and a lifeless body weighing down his arms at the bottom of a bridge.

Pepper turns to him, worry and sadness mixed with confusion. “I’m sorry, honey. You don’t have to tell me about it, but I’m here for you too, you know.” Her free hand comes up to his face, fingers as icicles grounding him, keeping him in the present, and he can’t help but lean into the touch. 

“No, it’s fine. It was a long time ago. I don’t talk about her much, s’all. She would probably hit me for it if she was here.” He chuckles wetly, feels the pressure building behind his eyes. “I used to blame myself for what happened to her. I thought that, if only I was a little faster, I could have saved her. According to Harry, she would have died anyway, he still has to remind me sometimes, that it was Norman’s fault and not mine.” 

Harry’s scolding voice from all those years ago comes back to life, when he barged into Peter’s bedroom and demanded he tell him what the hell was going on.  _ “You can’t put everyone’s life on your shoulders. Norman killed Gwen, not you. You could never kill anyone.” _ He said, and Peter wanted to scream back that it was his fault, that he could have saved her. That he wasn’t good enough. 

Pepper’s fingers move to comb through his hair, and her blue eyes pierce right into Peter’s soul. For a second it’s like Gwen is standing there in front of him instead. 

“Norman as in Harry’s father?” 

Peter nods, taking a deep breath, and closing his eyes. Focusing on the delicate fingers massaging his scalp and toying with his curls. “Yeah, he flew around making chaos as the Green Goblin for a while. He pushed Gwen off a bridge. I tried to get her in time, but when I caught her in my web, the force of it was too much, and her neck snapped.”

Pepper’s coffee hits the table and suddenly she’s pressed against him in a warm hug, her arms strong and caring around him, and he melts against her. 

“Oh my God. Honey…” It feels good to talk about it, even though his chest tightens around the memory. He listens to Pepper’s steady heart and smells her fruity scented hair. It’s comforting, knowing she doesn’t blame him. “When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me about it before?”

“It’s eight years ago now. And I was still kind of trying to get Tony’s approval at the time. Telling you— him— about it wasn’t exactly a priority. It took a good few years before I even managed to talk to Harry about it.” 

They stand in silence for a while, Pepper’s hand a comforting distraction from everything else. He looks at the picture one more time, and smiles at their goofy faces. If only everything could be as easy as it was back then. Peter wonders, distantly, when he got so close to Pepper to feel this sheltered and safe around her. 

“Let’s find you some clothes to sleep in, yeah?” 

* * *

Peter locates a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeved t-shirt with some silly science pun he hasn’t worn in ages. It won’t fit, but at least she has something that’s most likely a little more comfortable than the dress she’s been wearing all night. 

He shows her the bathroom and hands her the clothes and a clean towel, and sighs when he reenters his bedroom, not at all in the mood to change the sheets. He does it anyway. Pepper deserved to sleep in a clean bed. 

His suit is the next to go, and he’s confident he’s never going to wear one if he doesn’t absolutely have to. He scrambles into a pair of dark blue, checkered sleep pants and a loose t-shirt, grabs a pillow and heads back into the living room.

He can feel the exhaustion creeping up on him, and he sips his coffee and glances over his notes strewn out on the kitchen table. Noticing a faulty equation on a post-it, he sits down, grabs a pen and momentarily forgets about everything else as he dives into his work. 

“Has anyone ever told you how handsome you look in glasses?” Peter jumps at the sudden voice, and curses himself for not even noticing the shower shutting off. “I didn’t even know you needed them.” She leans over the table, her damp, strawberry hair framing her face and shoulders. The shirt is indeed too big, and hangs loose on her frame, showing off her prominent collarbone.

“I don’t. They’re designed the same way the lenses in my mask are, and makes it easier to focus without too much input.” Pepper hums and looks down on the notes cluttering the kitchen table, frowning slightly before she shakes her head and smiles. 

“It still surprises me how smart you really are.” He can feel his cheeks heat up at the compliment, and he puts his glasses down to rub a hand over his face to hide it. 

“Come on, you look tired.” He stands, gesturing with his arm in the general direction of the bedroom. Pepper nods, and grabs the pillow Peter brought out, and smirks at Peter’s quirked eyebrow.

“You’re not sleeping on your own couch, Pete. Will you hold me?” She’s wearing the same pleading look as at the gala, and Peter decides he really needs a course in how to say the word no.

“Yeah, sure. I can do that.”

Pepper’s fingers are as cold as ever when they sneak their way underneath Peter’s shirt, and he sucks in a breath at the initial contact. One long leg is thrown over his hip and Pepper’s face is hidden in a mix of silky hair and Peter’s shirt. 

“Good night, Pep” he whispers in the dark and combs through her hair. She looks at him through her eyelashes, leans up a little and kisses Peter’s jaw.

Peter’s brain shuts down for a second, too overwhelmed with the thoughts of  _ she kissed me, did that really happen  _ and  _ what the fuck?! _ He’s left blinking, and almost doesn’t hear Pepper’s soft voice in his ear before she lets her head fall back down on his chest and falls asleep. “Good night, honey”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so much longer than the previous chapters, and I can't really say if the others to come will be more just as long as this or shorter, but I didn't want to cut it in half either. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this, and please, I love getting comments on my work, if you have anything to say about it, anything at all, I'd love to hear it. 
> 
> Stay safe everyone!


	4. Lips from heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is the adult, Peter is confused, conflicted and has absolutely no clue what the hell he's doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update, but apparently, christmas is coming up, so my brain desided to have a minor break down, even though I don't celebrate the holiday. 
> 
> Anyway! I hope you enjoy this!

Peter wakes the next morning with slow dread creeping up his spine and settles deep in his gut. Pepper is nestled in his arms, small puffs of air escaping her parted lips and dampening his shirt. And for all the perfect pictures she presents in the early morning glow, what goes through his sleepy brain is that  _ she should not be here. _

The image of Tony from the night before, with his unsuspecting eyes, trusting Peter to make sure the most precious person in his life got home safe. And yet, she’s tangled in unfamiliar sheets, wearing Peter’s clothes and smells like his shower gel.  _ This is wrong _ , a strong voice that sounds suspiciously like his aunt May says, and Peter shrinks in on himself from the imaginary scolding alone. 

Pepper stirs, and her eyes flutter open slowly. Peter wants to drown the butterflies flapping their wings in his stomach in tune with her long lashes. Her blue orbs focus on him, searching. For what, Peter has no clue, but she looks unsure, and Peter wants to wipe it away. 

He smiles reassuringly, or tries to, anyway. His thumb comes up to graze the smooth skin on her cheek, pale and flushed in the yellow strips of sunlight. The uncertainty drifts from her eyes, replaced by hope, suffocating Peter’s airway in the way they overwhelm his entire being.

Yet, he can’t make himself stop. She’s radiating peace, right here, in Peter’s old bedsheet, tucked into his arms. Like this is everything she’s ever dreamed of. Her curious look at Peter’s aunt and uncle the night before flicker before his eyes.  _ Do you not know how love works? _ He wonders, fingers scraping gently through her golden, silk hair. 

He swallows thickly, Tony’s body hunched over the bar, gripping his glass as if he can’t possibly live without it taking over in his mind, and he sucks in a breath, his hand wandering down to her neck, squeezing gently. Eyes fluttering again and her breathing hitches.  _ What kind of love do you get? _

He studies her, feels her skin heat up under his tender touch, counts the freckles dusting her nose, her pupils expanding along with Peter’s drifting hand. Over her shoulder, down her arm, slowly, smoothing. Her tongue darts out to lick her full, pink lips, and Peter’s predatory gaze follows the movement. 

He wants to taste, feel, touch. Wants to know how they feel on his own. Wants to swallow her breathy little moans and devour her. Wants to show her, tell her:  _ This is what love is. _

He clears his throat, dragging them both out of this infectious bubble. Back to the real world. “G’mornin’” he’s voice rasps out, grinding sandpaper up his throat. He gives her one more smile. Trying, failing, to tell her what this all does to him. What she means to him. What he wants to do for her. Why he can’t. 

She smiles back, a little sad. Understanding. Her cold fingertips combs through his curls, sending shivers down his whole body. “Mornin’” Even as a whisper, rough with sleep, she sounds like an angel.  _ You’re a lucky man, Stark, wish you knew that. _

* * *

Pepper gets a cup of coffee, it’s all Peter has to offer before Happy comes to pick her up. There’s a tension coating his apartment the whole time they’re sitting by his kitchen table, like they both have a whole dictionary worth of words to say, and no way to form sentences. 

Peter is a little relieved when he closes the door after her, sinks down to the floor and drags his hands over his face.  _ What are you doing, Parker? _ . 

He won’t answer himself. Doesn’t know if he can. He feels so utterly out of place, out of balance. Something in the last week doesn’t add up. It’s like piecing together a puzzle with three different motives thrown together and half the parts missing. 

Pepper Potts is one of the most important people in the world. Wife of the incredible, world saving superhero, genius and business owner Tony Stark. What is she doing hanging out with the ordinary, boring young man from Queens? Sure she has other friends, right? She must have other people she can lean on. To comfort her and help her make sure Tony doesn’t actually drown in his own work or dies from alcohol poisoning.

Peter’s phone vibrates on his nightstand and it’s like bricks tumbling in his guts. He does not need Harry to yell at him right now. He hasn’t done anything wrong, he tells himself like a mantra as he trudges into the bedroom, yet he can hear Harry’s words even before he answers the phone. 

“ _ Parker! What the hell do you think you’re doing?! _ ” Peter sighs. He needs a break.

“Mornin’ to you too, sunshine” he tries, but the faux cheer in his tone dies out before he even gets to talk and it ends up as a monotone resignation.

“ _ Don’t shit me, you absolute idiot. What do you think you’re doing with Pepper Potts? _ ”

“Nothing!” Peter almost shouts, one hand flying out in frustration. He doesn’t need to be berated for something he hasn’t even done.

“ _ She’s married, Pete. _ ”  _ No shit. _

“I know!”

“ _ So what the hell are you doing? _ ” And  _ oh God _ , he sounds like a disappointed dad. 

“I told you, I’m not doing anything.”

There’s a loud sigh coming from the other end of the phone, and Peter can almost hear Harry’s hand dragging over his face. 

“ _ Peter… I know you, alright. I’ve known you since we were kids. You can’t lie to save your ficking life. _ ” Peter scoffs and throws himself on the bed, closes his eyes and tries not to focus on the lingering smell of the woman who slept there not even an hour earlier.

“He said to the man with a secret identity.” 

“ _ Which still surprises me, actually. I see you. You look at her like you looked at me. You can’t fall for a married woman, dipshit. _ ” Peter knows. He’s been beating himself up about it for the last week, after all. He still feels the need to defend himself bubbling under his skin. Who does Harry think he is, to come and tell him off for it too. Like he’s never done anything wrong.

“I’m just taking care of her, Harry. She needs someone. You saw Tony last night. That’s not… He’s getting worse. I can’t just… not do anything.”

“ _ Yeah, I get that. But there are other ways to be a friend, Pete. I swear, you have a higher record of sleeping with your friends than anyone else I know. If you need to get laid, there are apps for that. _ ” Peter’s face screws up at the comment. Does Harry really think he’s doing this to get  _ laid? _

“That’s not… what? I’ve had sex with a total of three people, what are you talking about?”

“ _ The fact that those three people were your friends first, moron. Now, stop lusting after married people, at least. They’re off limits. And it’s a little concerning that I have to even point that out. _ ” He doesn’t. Need to point it out, that is. Peter isn’t some half ass idiot without morals, thank you very much.

“I’m not planning on sleeping with her.”  _ And the fact that I have to point that out is way more concerning than your worries, pal, _ Peter doesn’t say, because he does in fact have more than half a brain cell, and deep, deep,  _ deep down,  _ he knows that Harry’s just looking out for him.

“ _ Maybe not, but can you honestly tell me you would have backed off if she came onto you? _ ” Peter wants to say  _ yes, of course I would, _ he’s a good guy, he doesn’t ruin people’s life for kicks. But as his friend just pointed out, Peter can’t lie for shit, and the boulders that have moved into his entire body, weighing him down, is telling him very clearly that he does in fact not want to do the right thing here.

“Harry. She’s not gonna try anything. She just wants a friend.” It was the truth twenty-four hours ago, at least. But even Peter can’t deny the hopeful expression in those beautiful, blue eyes. But Peter is determined to hold on to that fact, if only for his own sanity.

“ _ If she wants to be just friends, she wouldn’t have clung to you like she did. Friends don’t do that. Hell, we don’t even do that. _ ” Peter opens his mouth, closes it again, blinks and stares at the ceiling, silently begging for something,  _ anything _ , to make Harry stop giving him hope his devilish mind doesn’t need.

“That’s different. She’s having a hard time, and I’m gonna be there for her.”  _ Please, Harry, don’t fuel this monster.  _

“ _ Jesus, Pete. You’re so fucking oblivious it’s not even funny. She’s looking for a way out of her marriage. You’re her ticket. _ ”  _ Thank you, asshole, just what I needed.  _ But then, a little too late, the gears in his brain start turning, fueled by the caffeine that finally made its way to the right place, and a lumb starts growing in his throat. He swallows it down,  _ this is better,  _ he thinks. It doesn’t do much.

“What, like a tool?” And he hates the quiver in his voice, begs for whatever’s out there that Harry didn’t notice. 

“ _ Yes, Pete. Exactly like a tool. Don’t jump head first into this mess. I know you care, too much for your own good, but this isn’t the way to do it. _ ”  _ I’m just a tool. Of course I am. She doesn’t want me. Not like I want her, anyway. This is  _ good _. _

“What do you want me to do then?”

“ _ Back the hell off. Get Stark some professional help. You can’t offer yourself like this, giving one half of yourself to each of them. You’re gonna break in the end _ .” Well, that’s not exactly accurate, is it? Peter doesn’t  _ break. _ He’s rather durable, actually. 

“I can’t do that. They need help. Tony just doesn’t see it… yet.” Peter can feel his stomach clench, the thought that he might just be some easy way out for Pepper pounding in his head. It should be a relief. It should make it easier to keep his own growing feelings away, hide them in a corner of his brain until they fade and disappear. 

“ _ And how are you planning to show him, huh? Heated sex with his wife and send him the video? _ ” Peter snorts.

“Of course not! I’m not planning to have sex with her! Geez, Harry, get that through that big head of yours!”  _ I’m not worth anything to her.  _

“ _ Stop! Just… stop. Listen to yourself. Listen to me. Open those damn eyes of yours for a second _ .”

“But I—”

“ _ No. You can’t tell me you wouldn’t fuck her if she offered, because you would. Don’t even try to deny it. And I can’t tell her to back off, because it’s not my place and somehow I think she’s just as stubborn as you are.  _

_ “But you can’t play both sides here, Pete. You’re a terrible double agent. And you’re definitely not Switzerland. So you need to choose _ .” Peter doesn’t really see what the choices here are. He opens his mouth to say just that, but he can practically hear Harry worrying his lip, thinking about what to say next, so he closes his mouth again, takes a deep breath and waits.

“ _ Do you want to break Pepper’s hope of getting in your pants or do you want to break Tony’s heart by betraying him. Because there’s no solution to this where you win. _ ” That’s not really new, is it? Peter isn’t known for winning anything. 

“I just want to help.” he breathes out, drags his hand over his face and lets everything sink in. Yet, all he can think about is Pepper’s teary eyes and Tony’s tired figure clutching a bottle of scotch. 

“ _ I know… believe me, I know. But this isn’t the way to do it. _ ” Like Peter just decided to fall for the most unavailable woman on the planet. 

“What do you want me to do then?”

“ _ Get Stark some help. Don’t go ahead and ruin their marriage. They can do that on their own. _ ” Somehow, that isn’t at all comforting. They’re the most iconic power couple in the world. They’ve been through so much, and people idolize them for sticking together through it all. The fact that they might not make it, and get their happily ever after is oddly disturbing.

“When did you become the adult one?” Harry isn’t the one to come with wise comebacks and have all the advice ready to throw in Peter’s direction. If Peter wanted advice, he would have gone to May, or maybe even MJ. All Harry’s doing is confuse him, and make him hate that stupid heart of his even more. 

“ _ When I became a dad and you turned into the child _ .” 

“M’not a child.” he mumbles, halfheartedly. He’s tired of this argument. Tired of the entire situation.  _ What have you gotten yourself into, Parker? _

“ _ Well, you’re acting like one. Now, go swing around the city and talk to some pigeons or whatever you do on those rooftops, and I’ll see you at work tomorrow. _ ” Good idea. Peter would fight some animal themed hero over this mess anytime. 

“I hate you.” He says, because admitting that Harry is right is never going to end well.

“ _ I love you too, man. _ ” Harry gets the message anyway, and his voice is soft and understanding, and Peter is so grateful for having this asshole in his life to keep him on track.

* * *

Peter does try to talk to the pigeons. Not that there’s any good not-confusing advice to get there either. He knows, though, that he should probably back off a little. Let them figure this out on their own. 

He takes a bite of his hot dog and gazes out on the city. Sundays are quiet even crime-wise. Apparently even the burglars and villains need a resting day. Which is good for the city, really. Not so good for Peter’s melting brain. He needs to get out some steam. He could use an adrenaline suffocating fight right about now.

He throws the rest of the hot dog bun to the brave pigeon sitting next to him, nibbling on his thigh and cooing encouragingly. “There you go, little guy.”

The bird flies off with its prize and Peter squints after it.  _ Ungrateful trash with wings. _

He stands up, rolls his shoulders and shakes his head. Like he can just peel off all these conflicting thoughts and feelings. 

Newsflash. It doesn’t work.

He dives off the building, feels the cool wind hit him with full force. His shoulder screams a little when his web connects and yanks him back up, yet it’s a refreshing feeling in contrast to the burning ache that spreads through his body with every image of Pepper’s blue eyes and silky hair his mind is determined to torture him with.  _ She’s just using you. You don’t mean anything to her. You’re an easy way out. _

* * *

Peter gets to wallow in his own misery for three weeks. Harry (bless him) makes sure he’s busy with all kinds of interesting projects at work, and he spends more time with the Osborn family than he’s done in the last two years or so. 

It’s good, though. Normie is the sweetest little devil Peter has ever seen, and a laughing baby with chubby grabby hands is always a welcomed distraction. 

Watching Harry kiss his wife hello when they come home, on the other hand… Or listening to Liz ask about their day, looking up at her husband like he hung the moon. 

Yeah, so Peter kind of kidnaps baby Normie and keeps himself occupied with being the little guy’s whole universe. At least he can make someone happy. 

It’s Friday who gets a hold on him. And if the A.I is worried and wants him to come to the tower, then he’s not going to let his own pity party get in the way of that. 

* * *

Pepper opens the balcony door for him, eyes frantic and her body vibrating with anxiety. “Pete” she whispers, and Peter barely has time to prepare for her colliding into him and tightening her arms around him.

Tony has been locked in his lab for three days, and made sure not even Pepper was able to get in. Peter has to rip apart the reinforced door to get in, and the smell is the first thing that hits him. The next is the sight of Tony sprawled out over his work bench, passed out with a glass of scotch spilt over his notes.

Pepper gasps behind him and brings Peter back to the present. Taking a deep breath, he stalks over to his idiot friend and shakes him a little harder than strictly necessary. He gets a grunt in reply, but Tony doesn’t do anything else to signal that he’s alive.

“Friday? Do I need to take him to the hospital for alcohol poisoning?” He looks around a little, locates the source of the horrifying smell in the trash can next to the work bench and wrinkles his nose in disgust.  _ Jesus, Tony. What is wrong with you? _

“ _ I have notified the medical personnel at the tower. They’re expecting him.” _ Peter nods, puts on his mask and lifts Tony up in his arms. Pepper is silently crying by the broken door, and Peter’s heart clenches at the sight. He needs to have a serious conversation with Tony when he wakes up. 

There’s nothing graceful about the way Peter dumps his friend on the medical bed. He’s a little pissed off, to put it mildly, and would much rather punch him awake, if he could, so he lets the professionals deal with him and stomps out of the room to track down Pepper.

* * *

Pepper is standing by the kitchen sink, pouring out alcohol and tears and sobs all in one go. “Pepper?” Peter takes a hesitant step into the room, wringing his mask in his hands. He can’t help it. She looks so devastated standing there, shaking and weeping, with wet, sore cheeks glistening in the dim lights. He wants to go over there and wrap his arms around her, hold her and let her open all her barriers once more. But… 

No. He can be her escape tonight. He would offer himself as her break from reality any day. It doesn’t matter that she belongs to someone else. That someone clearly doesn’t know how to take care of her.

Pepper doesn’t answer him, doesn’t turn around. She just grabs another bottle, opens it and drains it. Peter takes another step into the room,worries his lip a little and lets his body move on its own.

His arms snake around Pepper’s shaking form, grabs the bottle she’s gripping, and places it on the counter and takes a hold of her wrist. She’s sobbing so violently it sounds like she’s choking, and Peter spins her around and tucks her face into the crook of his neck.

Her hands grab his shoulders, clings to him like her life depends on it. “I don’t know what to do, Peter.” Peter doesn’t know what to do, either.

“We’ll figure something out.” he settles on, whispers it tenderly into her ear, lets his lips graze her cheek. She sniffles a little and looks up at him, eyes filled with hope and sorrow. Peter tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear, lets his fingers trace her jaw, tilts her chin up, slowly, carefully, but she doesn’t move away. Follows his lead and licks her lips, her blue eyes locked with his own, and Peter is sure time has stopped.

They lean in at the same time, her lips are soft and warm and salty, moving delicately. Her tears are still running down her cheeks in a steady flow, smearing both their faces, but she doesn’t pull away. She grips him tighter, holds him close,  _ almost afraid to let go _ , an absent part of Peter’s mind whispers. 

“It’s gonna be okay” he murmurs when they eventually break apart. A small sob escapes her trembling lips, and she kisses him again, harder, this time. her fingers move up to grip his hair, pull him closer. Her tongue darts out to trace his lip, and he opens for her, lets her lead him, take control. 

The world fades away around him, blurring at the ends of reality. Everything he can focus on is Pepper’s warm body pressed against his, her soft lips dancing with his own, her cold fingertips gripping his hair and neck. Her breath is hot and unsteady, comes in small huffs of air when they have to break away, and Peter grips her by the waist, keeps her up, steadying her.  _ I’ve got you _ , he wants to say, hopes she understands, even in his lack of words. 

_ I won’t let you down. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I regret naming the chapters... I'm gonna have to go back and change that!
> 
> And I'm really sorry if you're disappointed in this chapter. It was really hard to write.

S omehow, they make their way from the kitchen to the couch, still holding on to each other like it’s the only thing they know how to do. Pepper is straddling him, clutching his shoulders so hard he wonders if it’s gonna bruise. 

Her lips are even softer than he imagined as they lock with his own, moving in synchrony, as if they’ve done this a million times before. It’s slow, so slow, and Peter  _ knows _ it’s just a distraction. That she just needs to forget for a while. 

But he doesn’t want to let go. Tell her they can’t do this. He can break his own heart when this is over. He doesn’t need to break hers too. 

He circles his hand around her, places it between her shoulder blades, keeping her as close as she can get. Her breasts are pressing into his chest, soft and warm. His other hand grips her thigh, feels her warm, bare skin where her skirt has slided up.

Her cold fingers loosens the grip, trembling still, she moves them back up to his hair and tugs a little to tip his head back. An involuntary moan escapes his throat, swallowed by Pepper as she dips her tongue in his mouth.

Pepper rolls her hips, slowly, and Peter gasps at the pressure on his growing erection and the warm, slightly moist feeling through his skin tight suit. She smiles against his lips, breath leaving in tiny, hot puffs. Peter opens his eyes, meets the blue, glassy orbs already staring at him. 

It looks like the tears are about to escape any second, as if she’s using all her strength to keep them trapped. He smiles back at her, reassuring her.  _ I’m here for you _ , he thinks as he caresses her misty, red cheek. 

“Take me to bed,” she whispers, voice soft and almost begging. Their foreheads are pressed together and the air between them mingles and tangle in an easy dance to the rhythm of Peter’s thundering heart. The conflict of right and wrong and  _ shouldn’t _ and  _ can’t _ pressing against his temples.

But Pepper is looking at him like he’s saving her from her worst nightmare, sweeping in and battling all the terrors and demons invading her life, just by holding her. 

And isn’t that the entire point of Peter’s existence? He lives for the protection of everyone around him. Especially the ones he cares about. How selfish would he be to deny her what she so clearly needs, just to preserve his own heart in the end? 

“Yeah... yeah, okay” he whispers back, and before he really has time to wrap his foggy mind around what that really means, he’s being guided down the hall to the bedroom he carried Pepper to the last time he spent the night.

It looks a little more lived in now, though. A book lying open on the nightstand, a StarkPad on one of the pillows on the bed and a phone charger on the floor. 

Her fingers are holding onto his wrist as she walks over to the bed, and doesn’t let go when she sits down on the edge. Her other hand traces the lines on his suit, locates the seam separating top from bottom and starts tugging. 

He pulls it over his head, a warm, ticklish sensation rumbling in the pit of his stomach as he places one knee on the bed and hovers over the woman in front of him, grabs her neck and leans in to capture her lips once more, the other hand dipping into the mattress behind her. 

Her hands trace the outline of his muscles, and the sweetest sounds are drawn from her when she leans back, dragging him with her until she’s laying on her back. Long legs wrap around his waist and she’s looking at him through her long lashes, biting her bottom lip.

It’s the most beautiful thing Peter has ever seen, he thinks, and the kisses become more frantic, more urgent, the room is filled with breathy moans and soft whimpers. Clothes carelessly thrown away. 

_ This, _ Peter rakes his eyes down her flawless, pale skin. Kisses the freckles dusting her shoulders, grabs her breast and twists her nipple between his fingers, relishing in the sounds that leaves her slack mouth.  _ This is the most beautiful thing. _

He trails lazy kisses down her toned, soft body, explores every inch of her, listening to her breath hitch and heartbeat quicken as he travels down, stops with his chin resting on her groin, looking up at her.

Her long legs wrap around his shoulders, heels digging into his skin and he doesn’t need much more acceptance than that. He keeps his eyes locked with hers as he pulls back enough to dart out his tongue, taste her for the first time, caress her clit with short, quick flicks as his hands knead her thigh, ass and hip, touching everything he can reach.

Every conflict raging within him is locked up in a box, hidden away in a dark corner when he sinks into her velvety heat, nose buried in the crook of her neck, kissing the salty skin there. Her nails dig into his shoulders, her heels are pressing into his back, and he can feel her heart vibrating against his own chest.

She's sparkling in the moonlight shining in through the window, glowing almost like a diamond as she clings to him, rolls her hips in tune with him. Her lips are pressing against his, teeth biting down on his bottom lip, urging him on.

The world is reduced to her warm, glistening body and angelic voice as she whispers in his ear, telling him how good it feels, how amazing he is. The sound of skin clasping against each other as he snaps his hips is echoing through the room, painting the walls. 

He's so close, movement growing more and more frantic as he tries to hold on, but Pepper murmuring  _ let go _ against his jaw sends him over the edge so hard he's sure he's about to pass out.

He manages to roll over to the side, panting as he comes down, and exhaustion hits him like a train. Pepper shuffles closer, careless of the mess around them, and makes herself comfortable in Peter's arms, pulling the blanket over them both.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Pete" she whispers, the words penetrating his chest where her lips touch his skin, tearing apart his soul as the reality of what he's done crashes down on him.

She can probably hear his heart hammering, trying to break free, because she tips her head up, shifts a little so she can look him in the eyes, and says: It's okay. I want this.

Peter can't even comprehend what  _ this  _ is at the moment, mind projecting pictures of his friend hooked up to machines and IV's a few floors below. 

"You're married, Pep. We shouldn't do this." He swallows, prepares his brain for the inevitable rejection, readies himself to get out of the bed and leave. 

"I can't leave him while he's like this. But I want you. I  _ need  _ you." She kisses his nose, his cheek, and then his lips, carefully, as if asking for permission to keep going. Peter kisses her back, can't really see a reality where he will ever turn her down. 

"I  _ will _ leave him. But I need to know he can handle it, first." 

Peter nods. He gets that. And if she needs Peter as a distraction in the meantime, then he can do that. Tony really should learn to appreciate what he has before he ruins it. 

* * *

He wakes up to Pepper trailing kisses down his jaw, neck and shoulders. For a moment he feels crushed by her feather light touches, like her fingers alone have the power to rip him apart and her lazy breathing is stealing the air in his lungs. 

"It's okay, Pete." 

_ No, it's not okay.  _ He wants to argue, but his tongue is weighed down by cement blocks, and just the thought of disagreeing with her makes him dizzy.

"I'm leaving him, honey. It's gonna be fine," her voice is so soft, vibrating against his collarbone where she's resting her face. 

"I get that, but still. I mean, I want to help, really, but if Tony ever finds out, I… Even after you've left him and found someone else. He'll be crushed." It takes every ounce of strength to get the words out, and it's surprising that the  _ finding someone else  _ part is what tightens around his heart. Like a rope tied in a million knots around every artery.

It's apparently what Pepper focuses on too, because in an instant, she's straddling him, cupping his cheeks and looking at him with the kind of determination she has when trying to fix one of Tony's endless fuck ups.

" _ Someone else? _ Pete. Sweetheart. I don't want someone else." Her eyes are wide and searching, and Peter just looks at her, confused, a tiny bit scared because he has absolutely no clue what the hell is going on. 

Then she leans down, brushes their noses together, pecks his lips and chuckles into his mouth. Peter stays completely still. Waiting for an explanation to what she finds so funny. Her hands are still squishing his mouth together, and there's a relieved, amused glint in her eyes.

"You're not just a rebound, Pete." She murmurs, and an embarrassing mix of a growl and a squeak escapes his still squeezed lips, before he grabs her and tackles her on the bed, shifting so he's hovering over her, peppering her in kisses as she laughs.

* * *

Peter is dressed in a plain, black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, drinking overly expensive coffee in an iron man mug as he contemplates whether he should go down and yell at Tony now or wait until he's back on his feet.

On one hand, Tony would stand a chance against Peter's hidden wrath if he's able to stand. On the other hand, Peter is more likely to actually get a word out if the man is chained to a bed. 

Pepper is sitting across from him at the breakfast bar, sipping tea that smells of forest and mint, deep in thought, and Peter wants to wrap her in his arms and not let go until everything is fixed.

"Should I go talk some sense into him?" He asks his mug, the Iron man mask staring back at him in silence. 

Pepper snorts.

"You think you're able to do that?" She raises an eyebrow at him, disbelieving, and— okay, Peter isn't known for picking fights, but he's Spider-Man. He can act tough if he needs to.

"I can try?" It's not really meant as a question, still, her knowing look is more of a heads up to Tony's disability to listen, rather than Peter's ability to talk, it seems.

"Go ahead. I'm gonna call Rhodey, maybe he's able to come and drag him off to rehab." That sounds like a good idea. Peter nods and slides off the chair, pecking Pepper on the cheek as he passes her on his way to the elevator. He’s not sure if it’s to reassure her or himself, or if it works at all, and he mentally kicks himself for taking the liberty to do it at all. 

He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it, as the elevator doors slide open for him and he straightens his back, takes a deep breath and exhales as slowly as he can. This is gonna end in a disaster.

* * *

Tony is awake when he enters the room, looking more dead than alive, but his hands are twitching at his side and he looks at Peter like he just saved the day. He’s got an IV in his arm, and chords sticking out of his shirt, connected to the beeping machine next to the bed.

"Pete! Please, can you call Pepper and get me out of here? The nurse won't listen." He plasters on his most charming smile and his best attempt at puppy eyes. Failing miserably. Tony can’t look innocent even if his life depended on it. 

Peter huffs a strangled laugh and drags his hand over his face. 

"Nice mug, by the way." He nods in the direction of the coffee cup still in Peter's hand.  _ Shit. _

"Yeah, Pepper offered me coffee this morning."  _ Shit, that's not much better, idiot _ . 

"It's like 7 am. What are you doing here so early?" Peter winces internally as Tony's eyes take over his borrowed clothes, doing some mental math or something, and Peter wants to sink through the floor.  _ This is bad. Why did I think this was a good idea?  _ He can practically hear the gears turning in Tony’s head as he tries to figure out what’s going on.

"I came last night, had to drag your sorry ass out of the lab. What the hell are you doing, man?"  _ Good, change the subject. Keep on track. _

"How did you get into the lab?"

"You might need a new door.” He notes, deadpanned and unamused. “Wanna tell me why I had to carry you down here in the first place?" He cocks an eyebrow, crosses his arms as good as he can while still holding on to the mug, and leans back against the wall. Tony opens his mouth, closes it again, shakes his head and looks back up at Peter with defiance in his eyes.

"You didn't have to. I would have been fine." _ Right. _

"Are you trying to kill yourself? Or are you breaking Pepper's heart on purpose? What the hell, dude."

"Please, I've handled worse. It wasn't that bad." The waving hand and faux nonchalance may have worked, if it wasn’t for the greyish tone to the man’s skin and bruises under his eyes. His lips look like they got brushed with sandpaper and his usually vibrant, brown eyes are dull and fading. He looks like a 500 year old neglected portrait.

"You pissed in a fucking trash can, Tony. You didn't even react when I broke your damn door." Peter is vaguely aware that he's raising his voice, and by the flinch Tony gives him in return, it looks like maybe it might be working. 

"Why did you lock it in the first place? Don't you have like a dozen different protocols for Friday if these things happen?" 

"I don't—"

"Nope. Shut up. I'm not done. You  _ need _ to stop. It's killing you. It's killing Pepper. And when Colonel Rhodes gets here, I bet you it's gonna kill him too. I have a whole city to watch out for. I can't babysit a grown ass man too."

"Are you done?" Tony's voice is flat. Closed off.  _ Fuck _ . "Good. Get out."

Peter doesn't know what else to say, so he nods, turns on his heels and leaves. 

Well, he leaves the medbay. His suit is still upstairs, and he should probably check in on Pepper before he goes home. Hopefully, Colonel Rhodes can get through to him. Peter doesn't even want to think about what will happen if Tony is back to drinking within the next few days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for shitty writing, but I've been wrapping my head around this chapter for almost 2 weeks, and no matter what I do, I can't seem to improve it. It was ridiculously hard to capture the feelings going around here, so if you have any questions, please let me know!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are very welcome. Let me know what you think!
> 
> Oh! And come say hi on tumblr@ kreket-popcorn-lover


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